Flash of Fear
by Loopstagirl
Summary: Merlin had always found storms to be powerful and awe-inspiring. It seemed that Arthur had other ideas.


_Disclaimer: I own nothing, all rights belong to their respective owners._

_There is something longer coming, I promise, just dealing with computer issues to try and actually get it back. In the mean time, hope you like this little one-shot. Please let me know?_

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Merlin leant out of his window as far as he dared, a wide grin on his face as he watched the lightening tear open the skies over the forest. He had always enjoyed storms, ever since he was a child. Although he wasn't sure whether it was him enjoying them, or his magic. The sheer power of the display in front of him made his magic almost hum happily and it made Merlin feel vibrant and alive. It almost made him feel as if he was the one with electricity racing through his body and the young warlock couldn't help but let out a giddy laugh as the deep rumble of thunder answered the flashing light.

"Merlin, what are you doing?" As Merlin turned, Gaius pulled him back from the window and slammed it shut. Merlin managed to school his expression into something more neutral, but he couldn't resist stealing a glance out of the window every few seconds even as his mentor took up a position in front of him that Merlin just knew meant a scolding was on its way.

"Shouldn't you be with Arthur?"

"What?"

"The prince, Merlin. You know, your master, your destiny…"

"I think I know who the prat is. And no, I shouldn't, he banished me for the night and said it was on pain of death should I return." Merlin rolled his eyes as he thought about how dramatic Arthur had been behaving. He had been acting odd all day, but his servant had just assumed the approaching storm clouds had stopped the prince going for a hunt and that had meant he took his mood out on Merlin like usual. But what had started off as a bad mood had turned into something else entirely by the time Merlin had been dismissed for the night. If Arthur was fuming, Merlin knew how to act around that side of the prince. But it wasn't as if Arthur had been angry. It had instead been a mood that Merlin hadn't quite been able to place and that had unnerved him. He had been grateful for the chance to flee rather than tiptoeing around Arthur all evening. Judging by the expression on Gaius' face, however, the old physician _did_ know what was troubling the prince.

He disappeared down the stairs and Merlin found himself following, curious. Gaius was rummaging in his potions by the time Merlin got there and before the younger man could ask what he was looking for, the physician pressed a phial into his hand.

"Take this to him."

"That's a sleeping draught."

"How observant you are, Merlin. Now, if you please." Utterly bewildered, Merlin clenched the bottle in his hand as he walked towards the door. It was only when he reached it did he realise that he had no idea what this was about. He turned. There was no way that he was going to go, armed with a sleeping draught to a prince that never admitted to needing any medical aid, without knowing what was going on. It was so out of character for Arthur that Merlin couldn't stop the tendrils of concern from beginning their familiar habit of eating away at him.

"Gaius?" The old man paused. Merlin could see the indecision running across his face. The man usually took patient confidentiality seriously, but things weren't always that clear when it came to Arthur. Merlin had a right to know – not only because it was his destiny to protect the man (even if that was from himself) but because it was his job as Arthur's servant to make sure the prince had everything that he needed. Eventually, Gaius sighed, motioning Merlin towards a stool.

"I'll make it quick as I don't want to leave him waiting, but you need to know. Otherwise you'll probably say something that will make it worse." Ignoring the insult, Merlin sat and stared at his guardian expectantly. He thought he knew everything there was to know about Arthur, but now it seemed he might be wrong. It seemed ironic in a way. Arthur fought every day to try and put his people first rather than himself, yet to Merlin he was an open book.

"The first time Uther clapped Arthur in chains for disobeying him, he was little more than a boy. Only just came up to my shoulder if I remember rightly. The king ordered for him to spend the night in the cells, which were thankfully empty at the time. Arthur took it well – he paled but didn't cry as Uther had expected him to do so. But there was a storm that night, so severe that dust was falling into the cells. You've been in them with the castle crumbling, you know how that feels? But rather than being a powerful warlock, Arthur was a terrified child. A stone fell in, his door was blocked and it took almost until late the next afternoon to get him out. He held his head high the entire time, but since then…"

"He hasn't liked storms," Merlin finished quietly. Gaius looked at him long and steadily, almost as if he expected Merlin to try and tease the prince. But that was the furthest thing from Merlin's mind. Gaius was right; he had been in there with things collapsing. More than that, he knew what it felt like to be trapped behind stone and not be able to get out, the troll had seen to that. He could understand Arthur's terror. More than that, he had to school his features into an expression of indifference so Gaius didn't see the usual flare of anger towards Uther. Merlin could almost guarantee that the king had not been the one to offer his young son any comfort.

Without another word, Merlin stood and left. Gaius tried to call him back, saying something about not letting Arthur know that he knew, but Merlin ignored him. He had got to know the prince well over the last few months and now he knew what was going on, he knew that he would be able to judge Arthur's mood. If the prince was going to refuse to accept help, then Merlin was going to make sure that he didn't think anyone thought any less of him for having a fear. While he couldn't exactly share his own terrors – he thought telling Arthur he feared being burnt at the stake would lead to awkward questions that could very well make that fear come true – Merlin knew he would make sure that Arthur knew it was alright to be afraid. Gaius wouldn't encourage it because he wouldn't want to go against Uther and the King certainly wouldn't let his son know that it was alright to feel things sometimes, that it was those hopes and fears that made Arthur human and therefore were the reason why his people loved him more than his father.

He made it to Arthur's chambers in record time, letting himself in to find the prince sitting cross legged on his bed, hands clenched in the sheets and clearly going through the breathing exercises Merlin had seen him do at training. He didn't seem to notice his servant enter and Merlin simply placed the bottle quietly next to him and turned to leave. It was unusual that he could get across the room that silently, but the situation seemed to have called for it. He knew that Arthur knew he was there, not a lot got past the prince when it came to physical movement (Merlin wasn't counting how blind Arthur could be to certain other things right under his nose!) but nothing was said and Merlin took a step away. This felt like a private moment that he was intruding on.

"Don't go."

Arthur's voice was a whisper and his hand had already found the bottle by the time Merlin turned. The prince didn't look at him, but Merlin still stopped.

"Arthur, I..."

"Gaius told you?" There was nothing accusing in Arthur's voice, more just an acceptance. It was as if he knew his servant better than Merlin was giving him credit for. Arthur knew full well that Merlin wouldn't have been able to bring the draught without asking why.

"He did, Sire." Merlin didn't see the point of lying, not when Arthur had spoken first. "Can I... I mean, is there anything you need me to do? Other than the normal list of things that you give me, that is. I am not going to muck up the stables in this weather..."

"Merlin?"

"Yes?"

"Shut up."

Merlin snapped his mouth shut, but could feel a smile threatening to emerge. He didn't need to see Arthur's face to know that the prince was relaxing slightly. He could just tell by Arthur's voice. Watching him closely, Merlin could see the way Arthur's shoulders were beginning to drop slightly as he let out some of the tension. But just as Merlin thought that maybe he would be alright after all, there came another rumble of thunder, an echoing boom that seemed to repeat off the stones several times before fading away to nothing.

The effect was immediate. Arthur immediately went rigid and his hand clenched the bottle so hard that Merlin thought he was going to shatter it.

"Arthur?" It was only then that Arthur turned to look at him and there was a pleading expression on his face – the like of which Merlin had never seen on his prince's face before. He was wordlessly asking again that Merlin didn't leave him alone and Merlin knew he had no choice. He could have left, but he knew that would make him not only a terrible servant, but an awful friend as well. In Merlin's mind, there was no choice. He smiled gently and moved around the room, tidying things up a little and stoking up the fire until it was bathing the room in a golden light.

"Why don't you drink it, Sire? I'll be right here." Arthur looked as if he was going to argue as he glanced at the bottle in his hand and Merlin found himself praying that the prince didn't try and make this a battle of wills. Gaius clearly knew that Arthur needed the escape from the storm, meaning Arthur had asked for the draught before. If he refused now, Merlin knew it would just be because he was trying to maintain his reputation in front of his servant.

Eventually though – after staring at the bottle intently – Arthur nodded and pulled off the stopper. Merlin saw the way he was sitting, made to open his mouth and then thought better of it. Rather than saying anything, he simply moved forward. Arthur didn't seem to notice this time, tipping his head back and emptying the phial down his throat. He paused, setting the bottle on his drawers and grimacing at the taste. He looked as if he was going to say something, but then his face went lax and Merlin moved quickly. As his eyes rolled up in his head, Merlin was there to catch him and gently guide him back to the pillows.

Pulling off Arthur's boots and awkwardly dragging the blankets out from under him, Merlin made sure that his destiny was comfortable and warm. Being terrified of something and trying to hide it was no easy matter, something that Merlin knew all too well. Satisfied that Arthur was as comfortable as he could make him, Merlin moved across the room and tucked back the corner of the drapes. It wasn't quite enough for the instant flash of lightening to illuminate the room and therefore awaken the prince, but it was enough to allow Merlin to once again stare out into the heart of the storm. Maybe if he could one day show Arthur just how powerful and awe-inspiring storms were, there would no longer be the need for the draught? But Merlin knew that while Arthur needed it, his servant would be there to keep his secret.

After all, his destiny was protecting the man, even from fears such as these.


End file.
